


Black Death

by GoatVibesOnly



Category: Original Work, WolfQuest (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Minor Character Death, Originally written for WolfQuest forums, Wolves, it's emo goth girl hours lads, minor blood and injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoatVibesOnly/pseuds/GoatVibesOnly
Summary: Black Death never smiled.
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character
Kudos: 2





	Black Death

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a fic I found while digging through my old writings the other day. I wrote this back in 2017 and I thought it mostly held up, plus I like these characters, so I figured I might as well share it here.
> 
> Some context: I originally wrote this for the WolfQuest forums, which had pretty strict rules about what was and wasn't allowed, and stories had to be as realistic as possible. I was also feeling extremely dramatic and angsty when I wrote this, and you can definitely tell LOL. 
> 
> Besides some minor editing for grammar, I've elected to leave this story as close to the original as possible. Please enjoy!

Black Death never smiled. 

She wasn’t sad, or frightened, or mad. There just wasn’t much to be happy about. Life was always one step after another with no reprieve. Hunt and sleep and find a mate and hunt and have pups and die. The cycle goes on and repeats and never ends. It was awful. 

Her first sister died before she was even born. Black Death was oldest, and biggest - a fat, healthy pup. Her first sister came out next, small and shivering, but alive. The second came out all wrong. There was no nose, no ears. She breathed once, then died. 

Black Death had never seen her second sister. She had nightmares about her. 

Her other sister died when she was a year old. There was a hunting accident. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and their prey - a weak doeling - was under the watchful eye of a healthy bull. A very healthy, very angry bull.

Mother and Father had hope for her. She was the runt of the litter but the kick to her ribs didn’t break skin. There was no blood. She limped home. They thought it was a bruise, nothing more, and determined to fight again another day.

She woke everyone up that night with her coughing. The ground was littered with flecks of blood. 

She was bleeding on the inside. Without even one cut, she bled to death. Her body was cold before dawn. 

Her older brothers from the year before said it was her fault. That she took too much nutrients from her siblings when they were still inside Mother and they were too small to hold their own. 

Black Death wasn’t always Black Death. But the memories of her past name faded with the last breath of her only remaining sister. She was Black Death now, and would be forever more. 

She was big, that much was true. She held her own against her brothers well. When they left, she knew she’d never see them again, and her heart ached. She felt so alone. Too afraid to get attached. She didn’t touch Mother and Father’s new pups. They were too innocent, and all she did was break. Kill. 

One day, she left. 

There was no goodbye, no looking over her shoulder. Mother and Father wouldn’t even know until it was too late. She was on her own, now. It was better that day. This was how things were meant to be. 

But still she didn’t smile. She didn’t know how. 

She traveled for many sunrises and sunsets. The moon shrank and grew and shrank again. She didn’t know where she was going or when she’d stop. Sometimes food was plentiful and her black fur grew long and sleek, and her muscles underneath were taut and rippled with strength. Sometimes there was no food at all and her fur was ragged and her hulking mass of a body was stunted, if still towering. 

She saw many wolves. Some had company and glowed with power and inner peace. Those, she avoided. Some were just as alone as she was. Those she avoided, too.

Most saw her, and acknowledged her, and gave her a wide berth. She was not one to mess with. Her glare was daggers, her body a boulder. A few of the wolf families would growl warnings and send her off, but none asked after her. No one cared about her, except as a resource taking away food that could be used for others. 

Black Death stopped as the sun set, paws raw and cracked. Her stomach rumbled. There was a small stream nearby, and a low-hanging tree branch that offered safety from the bitter fall wind. She curled up with her toe under her nose and fell into a fitful doze.

She awoke to the sound of another. 

She rose to her sore and travel-weary paws and stalked out from underneath the tree. Her teeth were bared, her ears alert. No one approached her. She would show them. 

There was another wolf, drinking from the stream. 

And she was _beautiful_. 

Her small paws spread out underneath her as she craned her neck down to reach the water. The wind caressed fur the color of sun-warmed earth. Her muzzle, delicate and dainty, was flecked with crystalline droplets. Her ears twitched at her arrival, and she looked at Black Death. Her eyes were pools of honey. 

She smiled. 

For once, the itch to move the moment she awoke didn’t rear its ugly head. Black Death stayed next to the stream all day, just watching the wolf. She was as playful as the water, as beautiful as a gust of warm wind after a cold, unforgiving winter. 

Her name was Little Blossom, and Black Death loved her with a passion she didn’t understand. 

As the sun started to set, so did snow, dusting a covering of white over every surface. Little Blossom welcomed herself under the low-hanging tree branch with Black Death. They slept next to each other, separate, but every time their fur tips brushed up next to each other her fur crackled like electricity. 

That morning, she woke up and saw Little Blossom was gone. Her heart ached, but she didn’t understand why. Of course she was gone. Such was life. Such a beautiful creature was no match for a behemoth like her. She shook her fur and tested the air, searching for available food. Hunger gnawed at her.

She smelled fresh blood. 

Her pace quickened and she leapt to the air, imagining Little Blossom with her throat torn out by a bloodthirsty cougar. But no, there she was now, with half a rabbit dangling from her jaws. She was so small and the rabbit so big that even with half gone she still struggled not to trip over it. 

She dropped it at Black Death’s paws. She tore into it with relish. It was the best rabbit she had ever tasted, even half-cold and half-eaten. 

Little Blossom slept with her again that night. Little Blossom slept with her all that winter, next to the stream and the tree with the low-hanging branch. The snow piled higher and higher but they had each other to stay warm. They curled up together, one big lump, Black Death’s huge mass keeping Little Blossom warm. 

Spring came and melted the snow, and Little Blossom melted Black Death’s heart.

Little Blossom’s namesake sprouted up in the grassy patch next to the stream, small yellow petals greeting the world and the returning sun with warmth and joy. Little Blossom would watch them for hours. Black Death would sit next to her. She didn’t understand why Little Blossom did it, but she did, and sometimes that was reason enough.

Little Blossom nuzzled her. It was soft and gentle, but Black Death knew what she meant. Little Blossom loved Black Death. And Black Death loved Little Blossom.

And for the first time, she smiled. 


End file.
